


thinking makes it so

by runandgo



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AMAB!Asra - Freeform, F!Apprentice - Freeform, Mutual Masturbation, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Red Plague (The Arcana), but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23195845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runandgo/pseuds/runandgo
Summary: “There’s nothing wrong with trying to tempt a bit of love in your own direction,” he protested. “It’s not a love potion or anything. It’s just a little luck.”She’d rolled her eyes, kept her lips locked together, because she had love already — it was standing right in front of her. And one-sided or not, she loved him enough to not want anyone else.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 85





	thinking makes it so

**Author's Note:**

> just 1.5k of my apprentice, ophelia, and asra engaging in some spicy spicy mutual masturbation and some soft soft mutual pining, before the plague and sadness hits. i hope you like it!!!

The shop candle was blown out, the sign was flipped to read “Closed” in neat but firm handwriting, the merchandise had been put away (or at least as put away as it normally was), and Ophelia was finally, mercifully alone.

Though she appreciated the fact that her aunt had trusted her to run the shop, it was exhausting, she had to admit. It had been especially busy as of late; a surprising number of people complaining of coughs or fevers, considering the season, so she’d spent most of the past few days either selling charms and poultices against sickness or over the stove stirring a perpetually-added-to vat of protection potion. She’d visited the Red Market after closing up for the night yesterday, replenishing her supplies, and sat up late making more amulets, but tomorrow the shop would be closed. She’d wake at noon, walk along the canals, maybe have a picnic — but tonight came first.

The plan was to pick the witchweed that was blooming all over the fields with Asra once the moon came up. _“Grows best right now, in the late spring,” he’d said to her, looping his scarf back around his shoulders. “It’s very good for all kinds of things. Makes a good base for the magic to build on, you know? Healing potions, poultices…” His ever-present catlike grin widened a little, and his eyebrows raised. “Love spells.”_

_Ophelia had laughed and tried to control the blush she felt rising to her cheeks. “We don’t sell those, Asra, and you know it.”_

_“There’s nothing wrong with trying to tempt a bit of love in your own direction,” he protested. “It’s not a love potion or anything. It’s just a little luck.”_

_She’d rolled her eyes, kept her lips locked together, because she had love already — it was standing right in front of her. And one-sided or not, she loved him enough to not want anyone else._

The painful squeeze inside her chest that always shows up when she thought about Asra made its presence known, and she sighed as she drew the curtains shut. Being in love with her best friend was proving to be more difficult than ever. She spent half the time with him desperately drinking it in, unable to drag her eyes away from him, like he was the very light itself, and the other half consumed with thoughts of the future, daydreaming and torturing herself in equal measure. It was quite frankly exhausting, and yet she couldn’t let go of the way she lit up from the inside out whenever he was around.

Walking into the back room, Ophelia slumped, resting her butt on the table, hitching a leg up and unbuttoning the remaining buttons on her blouse. There was only one solution she’d really found to work in any capacity so far, and while it didn’t help with the “being in love” part as much as she’d hoped, it at least made her act like a bit less of a jumpy idiot around Asra.

Her hand crept up the inside of her leg, rucking up her skirt around her waist, and she took her lip tightly between her teeth as she pushed her undergarments down around her knees and replaced them with her fingers. There was something incredibly satisfying about finally doing something for herself after these long few days where she worked so hard she could barely stand up straight. Getting back into the rhythm of her own body, enjoying the privacy again — she let out a small moan as she rocked against her hand, then another just to savor it. It was late at night, and the stone walls of the shop were thick enough to cover any noise she might make.

The angle from perching on the edge of the table was much better than Ophelia had expected, and she felt her breathing speed up, her hand grow slicker as she moved it against herself. Her eyes had fallen shut and she made no motion to open them, instead letting thoughts flit through her minds eye: a strong arm around her waist in the market, a flash of purple eyes from under a white fringe of hair, soft lips that she imagined on her now, and she shakily, quietly cried his name —

There was a soft rustling as the curtains swung open, and she barely had time to open her eyes, let alone react, until she saw Asra standing in the doorway, his face redder than she could ever recall it being before.

A beat of silence filled the air, and then he said, strangled, “You should remember to lock the door,” his eyes stuck to her.

And suddenly shame was flooding her, and she covered her face with her hand, shoulders shaking, legs drawing closed. “Oh my god, Asra, I am so sorry—“

“Ophelia, look at me,” he said, so she did, as much as she could bear to, willing her body to stop trembling. Asra looked broken open, raw, his pupils wide, a fine tremor running through his body like a mirror to hers, as if he was holding himself back. And with a jolt, she could see he was hard, obvious through the thin fabric of his pants.

She drew in a breath, shuddery, felt heat spark anew in her stomach. “Wh-what about the door?” she managed, blurting out the first thing that came to her mind.

With a snap of his fingers, she heard the lock click, and the curtains to the back room slid shut behind them. “If you don’t want to,” he said slowly, “don’t stop.”

“I don’t want to stop,” Ophelia breathed, quiet, half-believing that if she spoke above a whisper, she’d break some sort of unspoken spell set by the universe and this would all be over. Her heart hammered so loud in her ears that she was sure it was rattling off the walls.

“Thank god,” Asra rushed out, and pushed his hand past his waistband.

She was fairly sure she stopped breathing. Ao matter how she moved, it wasn’t fast enough; it felt like she was fighting through molasses as she pressed her fingers into herself again, the air thick with desire that hadn’t been there before. Though she’d kept her eyes closed earlier, this time she wouldn’t let herself take them away from Asra for a second. Because he was gorgeous like this, leaning into his own touch, sweat beading along his neck — someday she’d kiss him there — his body all long, lean, tense lines.

“I heard you call my name and I thought you were hurt,” he panted. “I had no idea, my god, I thought I was dreaming at first, seeing you laid out like this.”

Out of breath, unable to string words together to express everything moving through her head, Ophelia just moaned, her hips bucking upwards, fisting her other hand in her skirt like it was anchoring her to reality.

“I’ve wanted you for so long and you j-just — _ah_ —“ He cut himself off with a gasp, his head tilting back. “I’m this close already. Do you see what you do to me? There’s no one else I’d rather fall apart for.”

“Asra,” she sighed, crooking her fingers, grinding against her palm, and watched as his hips stuttered to a stop and he came into his hand. A second later she followed, the world going white at the edges with the intensity, a peak she felt like she’d never reached before.

When her head stopped spinning, she closed her legs gingerly, pulled her skirt back down, and looked over at Asra. Part of her expected him to look different, but he didn’t — the same grin on his face, the same dimples in his cheeks. He cleaned his hand with a clever spell he’d taught her once, then met her eyes and laughed, the laugh that seemed to come from the very base of his chest. “Pffffhahaha!”

“What?” Ophelia asked, smiling so hard her face hurt.

“When I thought about you,” he said, and he flushed a little bit at the admission, “I always imagined kissing you might be the first step we took.”

She felt herself blush too. “That would make more sense, I think.”

“I’m not worried about making sense.” Asra shook his head. “I’m worried about finding you, one way or another. I’m not really picky about how I get there.” He took a few steps towards her, then held back for a moment. “Can I kiss you now?”

Now it was Ophelia’s turn to laugh, partly at the absurdity of the situation and partly because she couldn’t contain it, happiness flooding in beyond even the usual endorphins. “ _Yes,_ ” she replied, emphatic, and as their lips finally met she knew she would say it over and over and over again.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading -- i hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider leaving kudos or a comment, they really make my day :) if you wanna yell about the arcana or this fic, you can find me on tumblr [@vsuvia](http://vsuvia.tumblr.com) and if you're interested in learning more about ophelia, you can read that [here.](http://vsuvia.tumblr.com/apprentice) thanks so much again!!!


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